


Love You No Less

by tazlwyrm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief suicide ideation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Friendly Fire, Guilty Prompto Argentum, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt Prompto Argentum, Hurt/Comfort, I offer you some polyship roadtrip in this trying time, M/M, OT4, Polyamory, Polyship Roadtrip, Temporary Character Death, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazlwyrm/pseuds/tazlwyrm
Summary: "Prompto dared to shift closer, kneeling at Noctis’ shoulder. His hands stayed limp at his sides as he still refused to touch him. He couldn’t bring himself to; he didn’t even deserve that right after what he had done."----In a classic case of friendly fire, Prompto accidentally shoots Noctis. The prince is critically injured and Prompto begins to doubt his ability to keep the people he has grown to love so much safe and alive.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 44
Kudos: 353





	1. Just Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I still haven't played this game yet, so this is based on other fanfiction I've read and the playthrough I watched about two years ago now. So apologies for any weirdness that doesn't line up with how things actually function.
> 
> **Content Warning: This story contains a graphic description of a bullet wound and a brief moment of suicide ideation. The latter is only a single, vague sentence, but I'm providing this warning anyway. If that would trigger you in any way, please steer clear (or if you want to continue reading, the sentence begins with "Prompto's fingers twitched-" so just skip to the next one).**

Reminders of just how easy it is for life to suddenly be hanging from a thread, by nature, never come when you least expect them.

Prompto had been trudging back to camp alongside the others. It had been a long, tiring day and it was only mid-afternoon. A large pack of Voretooths attacking them was just the icing on that shitty cake. He fell instinctively into battle, but not without very vocal complaints regarding his sore muscles and empty stomach. No one told him off for it, which was a good indicator of everyone’s agreement. 

The fight had been going well regardless; fast, minimal injuries. Everyone was pushing past exhaustion to get back to the haven as soon as possible and just pack it in early for the day. These were Voretooths; enemies they saw and dealt with nearly every day with little to no issue. So Prompto figured that this would be wrapped up just as simply as always. That was until things went to the worst kind of hell.

He was taking aim at one of the few remaining beasts. It seemed intent on charging an already occupied Ignis, not paying any attention to the guy with a gun. _Big mistake_. As naturally as breathing, Prompto fired in order to protect him. However, he was too late in noticing the bright blue light that indicated a warp strike forming right in front of his target, directly in the path of the bullet.

It all happened so quickly that Prompto didn’t register it right away. Not until he saw the familiar dark figure that had suddenly appeared jerk violently before falling to the ground in a heap.

That was Noctis. He had just shot Noctis.

Heart in his throat, Prompto finished off the Voretooth which had stumbled back a few paces screeching in agony. Noctis had managed to wound it before—before he—

“Noct!” he cried, sprinting towards the fallen form. _Don’t be dead. Gods, don’t be dead._

The prince was lying on his side, pale and breathing raggedly. _Not dead, but…_

Prompto fell to his knees beside him, landing in a puddle of something warm, wet and sticky; there was already so much blood. The bullet had gone straight through the right side of Noctis’ chest, leaving a nasty exit wound that pumped out dark red from between the prince’s shaking fingers. He was afraid to touch him, knowing full well that he had done this and didn’t want to make things worse.

Noctis looked up at him, any other expression masked by a grimace of pain—no accusatory glare or shock of betrayal. Just pure suffering.

“Prom—,” he whimpered as an alarming amount of blood flowed from his mouth.

Fast, heavy steps approached them and Prompto hardly registered it until Gladio was practically throwing himself down at Noctis’ side. The Shield’s hands were gentle as he flipped the prince onto his back, contrary to his frantic demeanor.

“ _Fuck,”_ he cried hoarsely at the sight of the horrific wound. Immediately, he was stripping off his shirt and pressing it to the gory mess, looking positively shattered when Noctis screamed as he did it. “Shh, shh. Just breathe, Noct. Just keep breathing.”

Noctis tried; he really did. But the bullet had at least grazed his lung if it hadn’t gone directly through it. His lips were turning blue and the flow of blood from them was frequent. Prompto felt himself somehow pale even further as Gladio’s shirt started soaking through.

Ignis joined them with unbridled terror on his face. He put his hand over Gladio’s to help in applying pressure.

“Does anyone have any curatives on them?” he asked, panic-stricken. “Potions, elixirs, _anything_?”

He was met with silence and two shaking heads.

Noctis coughed violently, splattering blood across both Gladio and Ignis’ faces. Gladio winced, his mouth quivering slightly as Ignis simply reached out with shaking hands to turn Noctis’ head to the side. The prince spat up more blood into the grass.

“We’ve got extra stores back at the camp. I hadn’t the chance to organize them into the Armiger yet,” Ignis said, running his hand through Noctis hair. “That’s his only hope now.”

“Go, then. I’ve got him,” Gladio said. He looked down at Noctis who was worryingly growing weaker. Swallowing thickly, he added, “Grab a phoenix down just to be sure...at this rate—.”

Ignis released a shaking breath and nodded. He only hesitated a moment to press a kiss to Noctis’ forehead.

“Hold on, love. Stay with us,” he said.

He took off down the hill and into the trees. Even at a dead run, the haven was a good five minutes away and then the same length back. Could Noctis even last that long?

Prompto was about ready to vomit. He was watching one of the men he loved practically drowning in his own blood and it was all his fault. A part of him always knew he should never have been here in the first place and this settled it. Noctis was dying because Prompto couldn’t fucking pay attention to where he was for one godsdamn second.

He was expecting Gladio to lay into him at any moment, but the Shield’s focus was completely on their injured boyfriend. One hand, saturated with blood, was still futilely pressed to the wound as the other lay in Noctis’ hair.

“Hey, look at me,” he was saying. “Eyes on me, babe. Just keep those pretty blues on me, okay? I’ve got you. Iggy’s gonna come back and fix you right up. Eyes on me.”

Prompto dared to shift closer, kneeling at Noctis’ shoulder. His hands stayed limp at his sides as he still refused to touch him. He couldn’t bring himself to; he didn’t even deserve that right after what he had done.

Noctis’ eyes were trained on Gladio as instructed. What breath he could manage rattled in his destroyed chest. He kept coughing blood and coating his entire chin with it. His skin was nearly white, the red now in stark contrast.

Unable to handle the look of Noctis’ face, Prompto stared numbly at his chest. The image wasn’t any better, but the shallow, stuttering rise and fall was almost hypnotic. That was until it slowed to a stop and all that was left was a grim reality slapping him in the face.

Gladio’s ramblings paused. “Noct?”

“H-he’s gone,” Prompto stammered, disbelieving. It was all so unreal that his body couldn’t conjure tears. He felt removed like this was happening to someone else or that he was trapped in the red haze of a nightmare. He could wake up any minute now and the sickening smell of blood would fade away.

“No. No, no,no _,_ ” Gladio denied, shaking his head. He tapped Noctis’ face. “Breathe, dammit. Come on, Noct. _Breathe_. Your eyes are open. You’re not—.”

A noise not unlike a wounded animal tore itself from him as the realization dawned. He gathered Noctis in his arms, keeping his hand pressed to the exit wound—like that would help anymore. The prince laid there lifelessly, his half-lidded eyes dull and unseeing.

Looking at them, Prompto finally felt his own eyes burn with tears. This was real. It was happening. He clamped his hand tight over his mouth, but it did nothing beyond muffling him slightly as he wept.

Gladio held Noctis tightly to him, rocking them slowly. He was speaking in litanies again as if the prince could still hear him.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay; I’ve got you. Iggy’s coming. He’ll be here. Please don’t go too far. Stay. Just stay.”

His voice petered out, but he kept whispering ‘Just stay’ every so often. Even as his body became wracked with sobs and his tears streamed into Noctis’ hair.

Prompto had never seen him cry before. The blond had teased him in the past for getting misty-eyed over one of his dumb romance books. And right after Insomnia fell, he noticed Gladio returning from his morning runs looking a little red around the eyes. But never this. Never these full-on, heartbroken tears that clawed their way out of him and left him raw and bare to the world.

Minutes later, Ignis crashed back onto the scene, disheveled and gasping for air. He took in the state of his partners and pieced together what had happened in an instant.

“No,” he breathed as he dropped next to them. He took Noctis’ wrist in his hand, his face taking on a disbelieving, far-away look. “Oh, Noct…how long?”

Gladio shuddered. “Four minutes.”

“It’s within the threshold,” Ignis said, a daring hopefulness in his voice. He reached into his coat and pulling out the life-giving phoenix feather. “He still has a chance.”

He didn’t waste another moment, curling Noctis’ greying fingers around the golden plume and guiding it over his bloody chest. There was a cracking sound and a burst of light as healing flames danced their way over Noctis’ body. The wound knitted itself mostly closed, the brunt of it being healed. But for a few seconds, nothing else happened.

“Please,” Ignis urged, bringing Noctis’ pale hand up against his cheek. “Please come back to us, Noct.”

Prompto’s fingers twitched around his gun because he knew what he would do if this didn’t work. But someone up there was definitely looking out for them. Noctis pulled in a long, ragged breath.

He coughed, dislodging the remaining blood in his throat. It sounded painful, but in the end, he was lying awake and breathing heavily in Gladio’s arms.

“Wha— _ow_ ,” he gasped, wincing and clutching a hand to his wound. It was less a mass of torn, blown-out flesh now and more like a shallow gouge in his skin.

Jumping into action, Ignis cracked a standard potion over him which swiftly dealt with the rest of the damage. If not for all the blood and the small scar left behind, it would have looked like nothing happened.

For a moment, no one said anything. As if they were afraid to break some spell that was keeping Noctis with them. But he stayed. He looked exhausted and unsurprisingly anemic but he was there, whole and _alive_.

Prompto slumped and tipped his head back, murmuring his thanks to no one in particular—to whoever was listening.

Gladio choked on a sob and pulled Noctis into a hug that was somehow equal parts intense and careful. A feat that only the large man could pull off. The whiplash between two emotional extremes left him shaking. He was holding onto the prince as if doing so was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely.

Noctis’ pale hand found its place at the juncture of Gladio’s shoulder and neck. His thumb weakly stroked the side of his throat; a reassurance that he was there. He coughed a little from where his head was sheltered under his Shield’s chin.

Very gently, Ignis grasped at Noctis and pressed lightly against Gladio’s chest.

“Let him breathe, dear,” he said, sounding thin.

Gladio didn’t argue and he placed an achingly soft kiss in Noctis’ hair before lowering him down into his lap. He continued to cradle the prince’s head in the crook of his elbow. Nothing in the world would make him let go just yet.

Ignis inspected Noctis’ new— _very permanent_ —scar, turning him carefully to see the matching one on his back from the entrance wound. Both were lightly-colored, puckered, and painful-looking given their freshness. But the wounds were clearly healed and that was all that mattered. He sighed, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the streaks of blood from Noctis’ face. 

“Are you in any pain, Noct?” he asked, failing to sound totally calm.

Noctis was silent for a moment, just breathing. And when he spoke, it was probably the most beautiful thing Prompto had ever heard.

“N-not really…kinda sore, but…I’ll live. Tired more than anything,” he said. He looked up into Ignis’ fearful, blood-splattered face. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ignis sputtered, shaking his head. He leaned in and kissed the side of Noctis’ nose. “Don’t you dare. This was not your fault.”

It was Prompto’s, and he was waiting for that bomb to drop. Any minute now, the flurry of anger would hit. They would finally realize what a mistake it was to have let him into their lives. Ignis and Gladio would gather Noctis up and leave Prompto alone in the middle of the woods, and the prince wouldn’t argue against it. He had lost them; he _knew_ it and he deserved it. But he didn’t know what he would do without them. They were his heart—his _life_. The loss was already a painful, empty pit in his chest.

As he sat there trembling in fear, he caught Noctis looking at him with a complicated expression. It almost looked like he wanted to say something, but his eyes slid closed.

Before anyone could panic, Ignis said, “It’s alright; he’s sleeping.”

Gladio scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “We need to get going. All this…this blood is gonna start attracting things.”

They all stood. Gladio held Noctis in his arms like he was cracked porcelain as they started on their way. Ignis led them, daggers in hand as he watched out for any threats and stole glances back at the sleeping prince.

Prompto followed for the time being, surprised that no one had told him not to. He took up the rear, doing his best not to fuck up protecting everyone’s back. They couldn’t afford another major injury.

The rest of the walk was thankfully uneventful and the haven soon came into view. Safely upon the rock, Gladio steered himself towards the tent, eager to lay Noctis down somewhere comfortable. The two disappeared from sight.

While Ignis followed them inside, Prompto froze. He wanted to go in and be with them. More than anything. But it was like there was an invisible barrier keeping him outside. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t reach them.

He had nearly killed Noctis. No; he _had_ killed him. Noctis had been dead for four minutes because of him. Even if he was allowed to stay for some reason, would it happen again? If he had made that mistake once then he could do it again, and any one of them could be left bleeding and dead on the ground. Phoenix downs wouldn’t always be an option. He was going to get someone killed again; he was sure of it.

In a split-second, panicked decision, Prompto turned and bolted down off the haven and into the woods. He didn’t know where he was going. Just away. It was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, a cliffy! The next chapter is mostly done, but I'm also writing other things at the same time. I'm going to aim for Wednesday (April 8th) to get it out.
> 
> Thanks for reading~!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://tazlwyrm.tumblr.com/)


	2. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is alive and recovering, but something's still awry that goes unnoticed far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a POV-shift for a single chapter for the sole purpose of me wanting this scene to exist~! I also added a chapter to the final count because looking ahead I feel that the contents of what would have been the third and final one really should be split into two different chapters.
> 
> Enjoy~

Ignis assisted Gladio in laying Noctis down once they were in the tent. He watched the Shield struggle for a moment, reluctant to give up his hold on the prince. But when he had to intervene and gently take Noctis from his arms, he met no resistance. He got him settled and then sat back to breathe and fight off the encroaching shell shock. _Noctis is fine,_ he told himself. _He is healed. Everything is…far from okay, but Noctis isn’t dead._

There was a barely contained tremor in Gladio’s hand as he ran it through his hair.

“That…that was too close,” he said, his voice weak and strained. It was strange to see him so shaken, but not surprising.

Ignis could only nod, his eyes roaming over Noctis’ sleeping form and fixating on the torn, bloody fabric.

“Help me get him out of these clothes,” he said. _I can’t stand the sight of it._

“Sure.”

Noctis didn’t stir as he was undressed, deeply exhausted from the blood loss and his resurrection. His breaths were regular and unhindered. He looked sickly but would recover.

The fact of such a word as ‘resurrection’ now being applicable to one of Ignis’ beloveds turned his stomach. The agony of feeling Noctis dead under his hands was a memory he knew would haunt him. He feared that he would bear it at its full weight for the rest of his days. At least, it was hard to imagine that the knife in his heart he was experiencing would ever leave him.

He put Noctis’ clothes in a bag to be dealt with later. Even with them removed, there was still blood smeared across the prince’s chest. It was everywhere, really. One of Gladio’s hands was positively coated in it and he had traces of it all over his pants and bare chest (he had abandoned his shirt in the woods, clearly having no interest in salvaging it). Ignis could feel the dried splatters of it clinging to his face, and they had, of course, tracked stray droplets into the tent.

They were a mess. But Ignis couldn’t bring himself to leave Noctis’ side to remedy that. A stupid, paranoid part of him screamed in his head that if he did, Noctis would stop breathing again.

Ignis pressed a shaking palm to Noctis’ cheek, finding his skin still chilled with the echo of death. That broke the remaining composure Ignis had. His eyes burned and his chest began to violently shudder with the sobs attempting to break out of it. Just as every emotion he had been holding back burst to the surface, warm arms encircled him and he found himself pressed into Gladio’s tattooed shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathless. “I shouldn’t…he’s alive, so I shouldn’t be so—”

“It’s okay, Iggy,” Gladio soothed, his own voice thick with emotion. “We had a scare. It’s okay to cry. You gotta let it out or you’ll explode.”

As if his body had been waiting for permission, Ignis began to sob much harsher than he had in a long time. He wrapped his arms around the larger man, nearly digging his nails into Gladio’s skin in his anguish. Wordlessly, the Shield trembled against him, simply sharing his pain and holding him securely as he cried. The tears helped if only as an outlet for his sorrow which would have torn him apart inside otherwise. He realized he was being a little loud too late as he heard Noctis’ weak voice speak.

“Iggy…Gladio?”

His gorgeous blue eyes were cracked open, concern flickering through weighty exhaustion as he watched their distressed embrace.

Ignis breathed in a shuddering gasp, wiping his tears hastily as Gladio released him but kept a warm, supportive hand at his elbow.

“Yes, love? We’re here,” he said. “I woke you didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but…s’okay,” Noctis said in scarcely a whisper. He looked at both Ignis and Gladio and then to his right. His brow pinched slightly as his gaze flicked back to them. “Where’s Prompto?”

With intense guilt, Ignis noticed only then that the fourth member of their group wasn’t with them. The poor dear was probably sitting alone outside, tearing himself apart over this and thinking they didn’t want him anywhere near them. Ignis had seen the whole incident on the battlefield; a terrible accident that had happened in the blink of an eye and nearly took Noctis away from them.

Ignis wasn’t blaming Prompto though; friendly fire was bound to happen. Especially given the chaotic nature of their skirmishes. He was honestly surprised that it hadn’t happened yet before that day. It was an accident. A frightful one, but an accident nonetheless. However, it was absolutely not one that would be free of guilt, and Ignis had been so preoccupied with getting Noctis safe that he had overlooked what a horrid state that Prompto was likely in. He should have at least tried to reassure the blond right after the fact. _Gods, what is_ wrong _with me?_

Gladio stood with a worried and sympathetic look on his face, probably thinking something along the same lines.

“I’ll get him,” he said and then went to stick his head out of the tent flaps. He visibly tensed before exiting fully. Ignis’ stomach dropped as Gladio called Prompto’s name twice without receiving an answer.

With wild eyes, the Shield returned. “He’s not out there.”

“What?” Noctis blurted, startled into wakefulness.

“I don’t see him. He’s gone.”

“He’s run off?” Ignis asked even though he knew the answer. He was getting far too used to feeling his heart in his throat that day.

Noctis, surprising them both, managed to launch himself up into a sitting position, shaking with adrenaline and fatigue.

“W-we need to go find him!” he cried in immediate panic.

Ignis put his hands lightly on Noctis’ shoulders, effectively stopping the weakened prince from standing and bolting out of there. “Noctis, _please_. Don’t overexert yourself.”

“He’s blaming himself! That’s why he left!” Noctis continued, not struggling but looking desperately at Ignis with a heartbreaking expression. “It’s dangerous out there alone and even if it wasn’t, he probably thinks we hate him! He might not—we have to find him!”

Gladio dropped down beside them, taking Noctis’ face gently between his hands.

“We’ll get him back, Noct,” he said, brushing a thumb over the prince’s cheek. “But you’re not gonna do anyone any good working yourself up and passing out. Stay here with Iggy and rest. I’ll find him.”

Gladio let him go as he nodded, but not before tilting Noctis’ chin up and giving him a quick kiss. “I _promise_.”

“Be careful, dear,” Ignis said as Gladio moved to leave, a thousand scenarios of either him or Prompto becoming horrifically injured running rampant in his distressed mind.

“I will. And I won’t be back without him.”

He was gone in seconds, his fast footsteps through the bush fading to silence.

Ignis was left alone with Noctis. As worried as he was about Prompto, he was needed to tend to the prince. He gently eased him back into laying down, keeping a hand in his hair in an attempt to fully calm him.

Noctis’ panicked breathing eventually evened out but he looked far from returning to sleep. His eyes shifted to Ignis’ after staring expectantly at the tent’s opening for a while.

Ignis sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Noctis asked.

“Perhaps if I had said something to Prompto then he wouldn’t have left.”

“Look…that was some awful shit. To say the fucking least. I get why you and Gladio were completely focused on me. Hell, that’s been both of your _jobs_ long before we were anything else.”

“Anything _better_ ,” Ignis said, a fleeting smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he held Noctis’ hand. “That still doesn’t excuse allowing Prompto’s pain to fester like that. I _adore_ him, but I couldn’t see his needs past my fear for you. It breaks my heart to think of him feeling it necessary to flee as he did because we didn't tell him otherwise.”

“I know, Iggy…me too,” Noctis said. “But we’ll fix this. We have to.” He looked at their entwined fingers. “You’re shaking."

Ignis cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “‘Awful shit’ as you recall.”

Noctis reached out to him with his free arm.

“Could you hold me?” he asked.

“You need to rest, Noct.”

“Please?” Noctis pressed as if sensing that Ignis needed this just as much.

Easily relenting, Ignis shifted from his knees to sit with his legs crossed. He loosely wrapped the blanket around Noctis’ back and helped him up into his lap, the prince’s legs thrown over his thigh and his head resting on Ignis’ shoulder. He was still cold to the touch so Ignis held him close, laying his cheek against soft, dark hair and trying to will his own warmth into his ailing love. 

Underneath the horrid, lingering stench of blood was a comforting scent that was so undeniably Noctis. Slowly, some of Ignis’ tension began to leave him; _some_ —not all. He let out a stuttering exhale as a few more silent tears fell. 

“We nearly lost you,” he said. “What would we have—?”

“Don’t think about that.”

“You were _dead_.”

“And you saved me.” Noctis pulled back a little to cup Ignis’ cheek in his hand. His eyes were wet. “I’m still here with you. I’m alive. You _saved me_.”

Ignis kissed him, soft and chaste. He found Noctis weakly gripping his hair as he tried to move away.

“C’mon,” the prince said. “Don’t do that like I’ll break.”

The next kiss wasn’t fierce, but not entirely gentle either. Something that wanted to be both desperate and tender but was caught in between. Ignis held their foreheads together afterward, reveling in the feeling of their warm breath mingling. He clung tightly, almost deciding against reason that he would never let go again.

“We are so blessed to have you, Noct,” he breathed. “Even more so after today.”

“Like you ever took me for granted before.”

“Never.” Ignis was drawn to his lips one more time. “ _Never_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~!
> 
> Wow, look at me getting this updated a day before I said I would! Don't know when the next chapter will come though. This one was mostly finished when I uploaded the first one, but I haven't started chapter 3 yet. Hopefully, it won't be any longer than a week though!
> 
> I also have two other oneshots (both Noctis whump) that I've written where the bros are just bros if the shipping in this one isn't your thing, or if you just want to read more of my writing for this fandom. Be sure to check those out if you want while you wait!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://tazlwyrm.tumblr.com/)


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto runs into some issues on his own; issues with teeth. Will help get to him in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slowly slides this across the table two weeks after the last update when I said the next one wouldn't be longer than a week* Heeeey, everyone. Sorry for the delay on this!
> 
> Enjoy~!
> 
> **Content warning: There's some violence, blood, and a mildly graphic description of vomiting in this chapter.**

Prompto wasn’t sure how far he had gotten before he was forced to stop. He was on his own now, out alone in the monster-infested wild. It should have concerned him more than it did, but he was too miserable to care about any creature that might be stalking him.

Winded, he leaned against a tree and wrapped his arms around himself as he tried not to puke. His chest hurt and not just from pushing himself to run as far as possible. It was like the pieces of his shattered heart had blown outwards and were lodged in his ribs.

He gripped his arms tight to will away what felt like death clinging to him, staring down at Noctis’ blood still soaked into the knees of his pants. A whimper built in his throat as he tried and failed to focus on anything else. He could barely breathe and a non-stop trembling had settled into his body.

 _I hurt Noct_ , he kept reminding himself. _I can’t be with him anymore. Or_ any _of them._ He had lost everything.

His hands buried themselves in his hair, tightly gripping the blond strands. Tears welled up in his raw eyes as the stinging pain radiated across his scalp.

“Idiot,” he whispered aloud, bitterly. “ _Idiot_.”

Prompto wept to himself in high-pitched, pathetic keening noises. It was because of this that he was almost deaf to the familiar, threatening growls moving towards him. Looking up, he saw more damn Voretooths making their way out of the trees— _five_ of them. Prompto started backing up in shaky, exhausted steps as they closed in on him.

He summoned his gun, raised it and fired. His aim was completely shot to hell in his distress and compromised vision. The dirt to the side of one of the Voretooth’s front feet was displaced as he missed. The beasts advanced, unperturbed.

“Back off!” he shouted, his voice torn as a few stray tears left him. “I’ve had enough of you bastards today!”

Of course, the Voretooths wouldn’t care about that. Prompto turned and ran before they could fully circle him, trying to put some distance between them. His legs and lungs were strained which slowed him down not long after starting. He whirled on his pursuers and fired off another shot. It hit this time, a little off his mark, but it still hit the closest of them in the leg which swiftly brought it down.

Calling on a strength he didn’t know he had left, Prompto sprinted further, the snarls of the other four Voretooths on his heels. He thought he could handle it this way. At least to wound them and keep them off his tail so he could get away if he couldn’t kill them. But the cruel, heartless universe had other ideas.

As he dashed out of the treeline into a clearing, his feet got caught up in some brambles. _No, no, no!_ He pulled free, but not soon enough. A Voretooth was quick to clamp its teeth onto Prompto’s arm. He screamed as long, sharp fangs pierced his skin, blood immediately gushing from the wounds.

“Get the fuck off me!”

Frantic to free himself, Prompto put the barrel of his gun directly against the beast’s head and shot it point-blank. The sound seemed to crack in his own head, leaving his ears ringing, but it did the job and he wrenched his arm free. His dulled hearing could pick up the savage growls of the other Voretooths in front of him. He tried to keep running but was immediately knocked off his feet as another set of jaws dug their way into his calf.

His gun flew from his grasp as he hit the dirt, crying out as the Voretooth that had him bit in harder and shook his leg like a damn chew toy. He reached in vain for his gun only to be dragged back away from it. The other monsters gathered around, snapping their teeth as if taunting him.

So, this was it. This was how he was going out; Voretooth food.

But even when facing down his own death, he couldn’t think about the fear of it or the pain. No; at that moment his mind only wandered to happier times with his partners. Falling asleep leaning on Noctis’ shoulder as the prince fished over a calm lake. Getting pulled suddenly into Gladio’s lap and having his face littered with playful kisses. Hugging Ignis from behind as he made them all dinner, basking in his warmth and the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Prompto wanted all of it more than anything. If not that then just to see them one more time. But he had messed that up, and now he was going to die. Alone, cold, and soaked in a mix of his and Noctis’ blood. He sobbed as a heavy paw pressed into the center of his back. Hot breath panted against his neck, strong-smelling saliva dripping onto his skin. He trembled in pain, waiting for those fangs to sink into his throat.

_I’m sorry, guys. I’m so sorry._

And then the weight was suddenly off him; following a muffled, familiar, deep-voiced battle cry and the sound of a blade swinging through flesh and bone. The teeth at his leg left as the Voretooth willingly let him go to deal with the unexpected intrusion on its pack’s meal. With tears streaming down his face, Prompto looked up to see Gladio standing over him. The Shield’s face was a picture of fury as he swung his greatsword at the three remaining beasts.

_He…came after me?_

Prompto dragged himself towards his gun; he had to help. Cradling his injured arm to his chest, he grasped the handle in his shaking hand. By the time he had it, one of the Voretooths was dead and Gladio was fighting the other two. He raised his gun towards them but froze. _What if I hit Gladio?_

His already labored breathing caught in his chest as he tried to track and predict the sporadic movements. He knew he was over-thinking (one of the first damn things he had been warned against when he started his training), and it was making him slow and unreliable. The taste of blood appeared in his mouth as he bit his tongue in frustration.

 _I_ _’m being stupid! Just shoot it!_

Willing the trembling of his arm to stop, Prompto aimed at the Voretooth furthest from Gladio ( _Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, please don’t let me hit him_ ) and fired. The bullet passed through the monster’s skull perfectly, killing it instantly. He kept his gun at his side, but let the Shield take care of the last one.

Prompto watched as Gladio slashed his blade into the Voretooth’s side, bringing it down onto the creature’s neck and severing its head as it lay bleeding on the ground. Not a second seemed to pass before the larger man was rushing to his side with a look of wide-eyed concern on his face. His ears were still buzzing, but he clearly heard Gladio call his name.

Prompto couldn’t meet his eyes, guilt still plaguing him. Why had he even come to find him? None of them should want him after everything that had happened. He tried to shuffle away from Gladio, only to have a gentle hand wrap around his good arm to keep him still.

He watched Gladio’s lips move, but could scarcely make out the words aside from ‘stop’ and ‘okay’. There was a flash of light at the Shield’s hand, materializing into a potion. Prompto immediately tried to pull away, ignoring the flare of pain from his wounds.

“D-don’t! Don’t waste it…,” he begged in a voice that felt choked.

Gladio looked at him, puzzled. He shook his head, saying something that sounded like, “It’s not a waste.”

Too weak to fight it, Prompto allowed the potion to be used on him. His pain aside from the blood loss-induced dizziness and a lingering ache was relieved immediately as the bites knitted themselves together. He didn’t deserve it. Not when Noctis had been left to bleed in agony and die earlier that same day.

A large, achingly comforting hand pressed against his cheek and he found himself looking into worried, deep amber eyes. 

“Prompto, are you okay? Can you hear me?” Gladio asked, clear now that the potion had restored Prompto’s hearing. The concern in his voice was so _real_ , his face and touch so loving. _Why?_ _Why does he still care? Why? Why, why, why, why?_ It was all too much.

Prompto leaned to the side and threw up in the grass. He retched violently, startling Gladio who was instantly reaching for him again. Prompto batted him away and nearly doubled over on himself. _I can’t let myself have this._

Gladio’s voice was weirdly soft. “Let me help. I—.”

“I _killed_ him! I-I _killed_ Noct!”

“Prompto—.”

“Why!?” Prompto cried shrilly, whipping his head up to look Gladio in the face. “Why don’t you hate me for this!?”

He expected sudden understanding and agreement, for the big guy to up and leave him to his sorrow. What he didn’t expect was to see Gladio looking back at him like his heart had been ripped in two—definitely not the tears shining in his eyes.

“Gods, no,” Gladio nearly gasped. He held his arms out. “Please don’t say that. Just…just come here. C’mere, sunshine.”

Prompto was stunned into silence before dissolving once more. Gladio, like him and Noctis, wasn’t the pet names type—that was more of Ignis’ forte. It was rare enough to hear a simple ‘babe’ from the Shield. But even so, he had long since used that special name on occasion just for Prompto and its utterance broke any of the blond’s resolve. He all but threw himself at Gladio, crying against his chest as he was wrapped up in his arms.

Gladio slowly stroked his back and hair.

“We don’t hate you. We could _never_ hate you,” he said, his voice thick. “We know you’d never hurt Noct on purpose. It was an _accident_.”

Prompto shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened…not if I was d-doing anything right…I…I shouldn’t st-stay with you—.”

The hug around him became fierce. “You have to….I don’t know what we’d do without you. Hell, Prom, the first thing Noct did when he woke up a little while ago was ask for you. He wants you with us. We _all_ do.”

Hope welled in Prompto’s chest, soothing a bit of the ache that had settled there. _Do they really still love me?_ He wasn’t brave enough to ask the question aloud yet.

“We don’t have to go back yet if you’re not ready,” Gladio said. “How about we just sit and calm down a little, yeah?”

Prompto nodded, still sniffling. “Okay.”

He sat on the ground and leaned against Gladio’s side, feeling a large arm wrap around his shoulders to bring him in closer.

“Did I, uh—?” Gladio said after they had been quiet for a while. “Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally broke Noct’s arm?”

“N-No,” Prompto said, wondering how the Shield figured that a story like that was supposed to calm him down, but he let him continue anyway.

Gladio cleared his throat. “You’ve probably heard that Noct and I didn’t really start out so good.”

Prompto hummed an affirmative in his throat. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. More tears fell down his cheeks despite the effort.

“Well, we’d been training together for close to two years at that point, I think. And things had gotten a lot better between us,” Gladio said. “But…then he came in one day being a little more bratty than usual and I had already kinda been having a shit day. We argued over something. It was so stupid that I can’t even remember what it was now, but it got us all heated. We got to sparring and…I tackled and pinned him to the mat too hard.”

He tensed. Prompto looked up at his face—stormy and regretful.

“Don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of his bones just _snapping_ like that…or him screaming his lungs out,” Gladio said, his eyes closing against the memory.

“What happened after that?” Prompto asked.

“I freaked the Hell out…got him help,” Gladio continued. “But then I couldn’t stand to look at what I’d done. So I avoided him for three days—even though that hurt just as much. I felt like I’d failed as his Shield…and I actually thought about stepping down.”

Prompto felt his eyes widen. “Seriously? _You?_ ” 

“I know, right? Then…well, it started with me getting an earful from my dad about being a self-pitying, stubborn dumbass.” A small, sad smile upturned Gladio’s lips. “But it took Noct coming to me himself, all teary-eyed and doped up on pain meds, for me to realize just how ridiculous I was being. Turns out he had been _missing_ me that whole time and thinking that I was avoiding him because what happened had made me not like him again. He tried to apologize for _me_ breaking his damn arm."

“He wasn’t mad at you?”

Gladio shook his head. “Nah. Just scared about losing me of all things…I think that was when I started feeling like I _wanted_ to protect him. At first, it was just a duty, then an honor when I got to know him better. But that was when I knew I loved him. Not like I do now, but we got so much closer after that. I didn’t want to lose him either—for _myself_ more than just for the sake of his line.”

Prompto took it all in, picking at the grass. “I…I get what you’re trying to do for me. And I don’t mean to take away from what happened to you because that sounds awful, but…I almost _killed_ Noct. How…how can I even _think_ about moving past that?”

“No; I get that,” Gladio said. He sighed, sounding like he was preparing himself. “Don’t…bring this up to Ignis ‘cause he won’t talk about it, but…he found out about Noct’s coconut allergy the hard way.”

Prompto’s stomach dropped, recalling the intense warnings he had received about the prince’s highly dangerous food sensitivity. He remembered the serious, heavy atmosphere as Ignis taught him how to properly administer an EpiPen—now he knew why there had been a far-away, fearful look in the other man’s eyes through the entire thing.

“Full-on anaphylactic shock and everything…he stopped breathing. It was really touch and go to save him,” Gladio said, looking sick. “Iggy was just beside himself.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Prompto said after a shaky exhale.

“It really messed him up for a while. He never left Noctis’ side even after he had recovered; obsessing over everything he ate until he was one-hundred percent sure it was safe, barely eating or sleeping until we practically forced him to. Eventually, Noct telling him that it wasn’t his fault started to sink in. But it was still a good month before Ignis was himself again, or tried to cook _anything_ for him.”

Prompto looked at his feet. “And he’s probably never forgiven himself.”

“No…and I don’t think I’ve ever fully forgiven myself either,” Gladio admitted. He captured Prompto’s chin and made him look him in the eye. “But that’s not my point. My point is: shit happens. _Accidents_ happen.”

“It…It _hurts_ though,” Prompto said, fresh tears spilling over.

Gladio hugged him again. “I know…I won’t lie and say it stops. But I just want you to know that even if we never forgive ourselves, that Noct forgave us. _We_ forgive you…and we don’t love you any less. We’ll help you through this. I _swear_.”

 _They…still love me_ , Prompto thought. _I can stay_. Despite the pain and the still-flowing tears, he couldn’t help a fleeting smile from reaching his face. He pulled back from Gladio a little.

“I…think I wanna head back now,” he said.

“Yeah? Good,” Gladio said, grinning. He leaned in and kissed him despite how gross he probably was from crying. Prompto almost felt like melting in relief; he thought he would never get to do that again.

They stood together, and Prompto shook a little on his legs, still weak from his injuries. Gladio caught on immediately, crouching and presenting his back.

“Hop on. You’re looking like a baby Spiracorn right now,” he said.

Prompto took him up on the offer, climbing up and allowing Gladio to carry him back to camp. As they trudged through the woods, he thought about the path—and hopefully healing—ahead of him, unspeakably happy that it would involve the three people he loved most in the world.

But the first step was clear and still frightening: facing Noctis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Wow, Gladio's just the designated hug-boy of this story. Am I biased because I think he would be the best one of the boys to get hugs from? Maybe. 
> 
> Just the wrap-up chapter up next. Hopefully, it won't take me as long!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://tazlwyrm.tumblr.com/)


	4. Just Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gladio's help, Prompto makes it back to camp and has found the courage to face Noctis' current condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I have a headcanon about the curatives where they can mend wounds and heal broken bones, but people still have to deal with some subdued pain relevant to the severity of the original wound. Especially with being brought back with phoenix downs—that can't be pleasant on the body. You've probably noticed that coming into play throughout the story, but I just thought I'd note that here.

Prompto felt a mix of relief and trepidation once he and Gladio got back to the haven. On the one hand, he had never been happier to be within its protection, but on the other, it meant getting back to being face to face with what he had done to Noctis. Back to all the blood and the prince’s new scar which would serve as a permanent reminder of that day.

Was he really ready to do this? Probably not. But he wasn’t going to run from it again. Not when his boyfriend needed him—scratch that; _wanted_ him.

Gladio lowered Prompto down when they arrived and the two made their way to the tent. He lightly tapped his hand against the canvas a few times like he was knocking.

“Special delivery,” he called out, grinning and nodding his head towards the entrance as a signal for Prompto to go in first.

The blond took a deep breath and led the way.

Noctis was under a blanket and fast asleep. The intrusion didn’t wake him and his chest steadily rose and fell with his deep breaths. Ignis was sitting beside him, looking at Prompto with palpable relief on his face despite the redness around his eyes.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said as Prompto crossed the small space to embrace him.“I should have been paying better attention to you.” He held on tightly, his hand carding through blond strands. “You should never have felt that you needed to leave us…I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Prompto said, his heart aching at Ignis’ tremulous tone. “I shouldn’t have run off and scared you guys like that.”

“You came back,” Ignis said. “That’s all that matters.”

He tentatively pulled away, keeping his fingers softly curled over Prompto’s shoulders. His brow crinkled with worry as he looked him over, seeing the remnants of blood that didn’t belong to Noctis.

“You were hurt,” he said, wilting. He brushed some of Prompto’s hair off his forehead, trailing down to rest his hand against his cheek. “I’m glad I thought to toss some potions into the Armiger after Gladio left to find you; damn my system for now.” He paused, searching Prompto’s face. “Are you feeling unwell? You look peaky.”

The blond smiled sheepishly. “It’s just from the bleeding…m’okay now.”

“I’m certain that you’re not,” Ignis said, sad and weary. _In more ways than one_ , remained unspoken but clear with the hurt, sympathetic look in his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe away Prompto’s tears that followed his words; they were all the confirmation he needed. He looked about ready to cry himself as he brought Prompto back into his arms and whispered to him. “Oh, darling, that’s _alright_. But you’re not alone in this. Just breathe. We have you.”

Prompto nodded and let out a shuddering breath. He relaxed into Ignis’ hold, content to stay there for a while in the comfort it provided.

From where he was, he could turn his head to see Gladio sitting on Noctis’ other side. He was holding on to the prince’s wrist, his thumb conspicuously pressed to his pulse point as he kept his eyes fixed on his pale, sleeping face. Noctis still looked pretty awful; transparent would be the best word for it. Like he was an apparition that could fade from sight at any moment.

Timidly, Prompto asked, “How’s Noct?”

“Fine; he’s resting,” Ignis answered, pressing his cheek to the top of Prompto’s head. “He tried very hard to stay awake until you returned, but his body had other plans…he’s exhausted.”

Prompto swallowed hard, allowing Ignis to let him go. Slowly, he reached out for Noctis. Guilt and the need to ensure the prince’s solidity in this world warred inside him, making him hesitate.

“You can touch him, y’know,” Gladio said, gaining the blond’s uncertain, nervous look. He gestured to their sleeping boyfriend. “Go on.”

Prompto’s shaking fingers closed around Noctis’. He gasped, shocked by the chill he encountered; it felt like he had been dunked in ice water. He immediately clasped both his palms around Noctis’ freezing hand, worriedly blowing his warm breath onto it.

“He’s still so _cold_ ,” he said unnecessarily. The others certainly knew that already.

Gladio sighed. “A phoenix down is some really intense magic to go through. Even for someone like Noct. Plus getting shoved back into your body after however long can’t feel all that great either. It takes a toll.”

Ignis placed his hand on Prompto’s trembling thigh.

“Death…lingers for a while in those who have returned from it,” he elaborated. “But not to worry; he will recover.”

“You sure?” Prompto asked.

“Positive.”

“Okay…”

Prompto held his and Noctis’ joined hands to his chest. He took some solace in knowing that, while Noctis wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, he wasn’t about to suddenly relapse or anything. They hadn’t lost him. He would be okay.

After about an hour, Gladio felt comfortable enough to leave and fetch a couple buckets of water which he warmed to the best of his ability via the campfire. He, along with Prompto and Ignis, took the opportunity to change and finally wash the blood from themselves, which unsurprisingly did wonders for their mental state.

They gave Noctis the same treatment. He didn’t so much as twitch as he was cleaned, re-dressed into his sweats and a loose t-shirt, and tucked under a few blankets. Such a deep sleep wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, but the events that had preceded it made them all continue to hover. He had nearly died, so clinginess was going to be the norm for a while. His deathly pallor and dark-circled eyes certainly weren’t helping their concern.

Night had fallen before Noctis began to stir. It began with some light fidgeting followed by a low, weak groan and his hand moving to press over the right side of his chest. Everyone’s attention was on him in an instant, all of them swiftly abandoning whatever they had been doing to keep themselves occupied.

“What’s wrong, Noct?” Ignis asked.

Noctis’ eyes remained closed as he hissed in pain. “S’just twinging a bit.” He took a slow, deep breath. “I think…it’ll go away in a minute.”

“It will,” Gladio said, lightly patting the prince’s shoulder. “Just try to relax.”

At his Shield’s voice and touch, Noctis’ eyes opened.

“You’re back,” he said, looking around.

His gaze found Prompto who trembled under it.

“Prom,” Noctis breathed as he struggled to sit up. “Are you—?” He winced, allowing Ignis to assist him. “Are you okay?”

“Am _I_ okay?” Prompto said, barely managing to pull back from hysterics. “You’re the one who…”

He trailed off, unable to utter the word ‘died’. It stuck in his throat as it tightened. Just when he thought he had cried his whole lifetime of tears already, more came spilling down his cheeks. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, sobbing wretchedly as he laid his grief bare before all three of his partners. Ignis gasped his name in a broken voice and it only made him cry harder.

Cold, gentle fingers wrapped around Prompto’s wrists and pulled them away from his face. His breath left him, stuttering out as he found himself looking into heavy yet imploring blue eyes. It was hard to look at Noctis without the memory of those same bright eyes going dull surfacing violently. He remained stiff as Noctis, ever so slowly, wrapped his arms around his chest and tucked his head in under the blond’s chin. But within seconds of feeling the prince’s living, breathing body against his, Prompto was clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, crumbling into simple, desperate repetition. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Please don’t carry that,” Noctis said softly, distress leaking into his voice. If the words had taken physical form, they would be visibly saturated in potent, unmistakable forgiveness. “And don’t _run_ like that again…I _need_ you. Not just now, but always. I don’t want to do this without you.”

“I won’t…I’m staying,” Prompto said. He held Noctis as tight as he dared; he had already hurt him in more ways than one. “Gods, Noct. I’m so _sorry_.”

“Stop that. Don’t be…just let us help you when you’re hurting, okay?” Noctis said. He paused, sighing. “I’m _fine_ , Prom.”

“You’re not,” Prompto said as he felt the prince shaking with exertion from merely hugging him. “You’re really not.”

Noctis huffed. Despite his icy skin, his breath was warm. “That makes two of us… _four_ of us…we’re a mess.”

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Prompto said, still sniffling but resolute. He was going to make it up to him no matter what. “I’ll be right beside you while you get better…I promise.”

Noctis sat up, still leaning into Prompto’s space. “And you’ll let us take care of _you_?”

 _What did I do to deserve people like you?_ Prompto thought to himself.

“I…I think I can do that,” he said aloud.

Any tiny, albeit ambitious, sparks of doubt were chased away as Noctis kissed him softly. If only for a moment, Prompto’s pain faded into the background, overcome by the fluttering warmth in his chest that sometimes came with his boyfriends’ kisses—regardless of how long they had been together so far (there were days where their whole arrangement still felt like a dream). This one meant so much more than an act of affection; it was a soothing balm on Prompto’s worry and a promise of a continued life together.

“I love you so damnmuch,” Noctis said as he pulled away and rested his head on Prompto’s shoulder. “Today didn’t change a thing.”

“I know. Gladio made sure I did,” Prompto said. He caught the Shield’s significantly softened eyes and received a knowing nod. “I love you too…all of you.”

Ignis and Gladio, who had been quiet and holding back to give the two of them some space, moved in to sit close and wrap their arms around their smaller lovers. Nothing more than those simple, three words needed to be said for now. They sat there curled around each other, just breathing together until Noctis voiced his need to lay down in a slightly pained tone. Once released, he simply lowered his aching body down to rest with his head in Prompto’s lap.

Ignis stroked his cheek. “Is there anything we can do for you, love?”

“S’there food?” Noctis asked.

“There can be,” Ignis said, smiling fondly. Happy to finally have something he could remedy right away, he left the tent.

“I’m gonna get the fire going again,” Gladio said. “Might help warm you up a bit, snowman.”

“‘Snowman’?” Noctis said, weakly lifting his head. “Pretty sure you mean ‘chiseled ice sculpture’.”

“Nah. Too adorable for that.”

“M’not adorable.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

He kissed Noctis’ knuckles and pulled a blanket over him before following Ignis out.

Prompto was content to just sit there keeping Noctis company, steadying his nerves by running his hand through his dark hair. They spoke in soft, idle conversation, talking about literally anything other than what had happened that day. Noctis almost dozed off until they were called out for dinner.

The meal was something simple for Noctis’ currently unpredictable stomach and involved not even a whisper of vegetables—also for the prince. Ignis would probably pile them on for the next few days for nutrients’ sake, but he seemed to be giving his beloved a break for the night.

Noctis sat in his chair, bundled up in a blanket despite his close proximity to the fire. His eyes held a far-away quality as the flames danced in them. He insisted on Prompto setting up his own chair as close to him as possible, and he laced their fingers together the second they were both done eating. It appeared the clinginess was going to go both ways.

The night was called earlier than normal as Noctis began to look more and more burnt out. The four of them didn’t always sleep practically wrapped around each other, but it was no surprise that it was how they settled into the tent that night.

Prompto cuddled up to Noctis’ side, his head on the prince’s shoulder. He felt arms around his waist as Ignis pressed up against his back. Warm lips brushed a kiss onto his neck, making him grin. Gladio lay on Noctis’ other side, his arm stretched over to rest on Prompto’s hip.

Though it all was intensely comforting and made the blond feel safe, he still struggled to sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop racing with the day’s events. Every time he almost drifted off, the jagged fringes of an encroaching, blood-scented nightmare would shake him.

Unconsciously, Prompto's hand slid up to where the bullet scar was on Noctis’ chest. He didn’t realize he had done it until he felt the prince—who he had thought to be long asleep—take his hand and move it, pressing his palm over his heart instead. The gesture remained wordless, but feeling Noctis’ steady pulse under his hand meant everything at that moment.

Prompto closed his eyes to the dim light, deeply breathing Noctis’ scent. He knew he wouldn’t be completely okay tomorrow, or even weeks from now. But he did know, without a doubt, that he was loved and that no adversity was ever going to take that away from him. Soothed and warm, Prompto allowed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap!
> 
> I'm pretty proud of myself for writing this in decent time instead of making people wait months between updates. This was a very self-indulgent story, but I'm glad that there were people who enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://tazlwyrm.tumblr.com/)


End file.
